


Tumblr drabble collection

by orphan_account



Series: Tidbits [18]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Drabble Collection, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Straight up Crack tbh, Truth Serum, attempts at humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tiny fics written for prompt memes or asks on tumblrbe warned, crack be ahead
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Tidbits [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541653
Comments: 39
Kudos: 213





	1. What did that even mean (Tim Drake)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemini_Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Baby/gifts), [AwkwardBlueFish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBlueFish/gifts).



> I do not own Batman or any related character or setting
> 
> hope you have fun!! Those are mostly crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat asked: Can I get a 9 with Tim, pretty please? ❤💓💕💘💖

It started in a damp and dark alley with two bodies, a traumatized child, and Jim Gordon. 

Not _that_ alley. Not _those_ bodies, nor _that_ child. 

Still the same Jim Gordon. 

– 

It started in a damp and dark alley with a mugging, the sluggishly expanding pool of blood on the crooked pavements, and a turning point in Bruce Wayne’s life. 

History had an ugly tendency to repeat itself, Jim mused, as he put his jacket around the shivering boy’s shoulders. 

– 

It started with a black-haired boy staring blankly ahead while Jim made awful phone calls and resolved to do better to make Gotham a little less full of horrors.

– 

It started with Alfred Pennyworth rushing out of a sleek black car and breaking his legendary composure for a single moment. 

–– Two hours earlier: ––

Jim Gordon was a lot of things. A cautious optimist. Competent. A good commissioner. Just insane enough to give most unusual ideas solid thought so long as they agreed with his moral code. 

Jim Gordon was a lot of things. But a morning person he was not. 

A four in the morning person on his third consecutive shift, he was even less. 

He would be grateful for that, later, staring at a very alive boy that stood near a pool of congealing blood. 

\----------

Tim Drake was a lot of things. A cautious optimist. Competent. A good photographer. Just insane enough to give all ideas solid thought, whether or not they agreed with his moral code. 

A four in the morning person on his third consecutive shift, he could be, with enough determination and sudden selective deafness to reason. 

He would also be grateful for that, later, staring at the impossibly alive boy that stood near a puddle of congealing blood. 

But for now, Tim wasn’t grateful. Tim was eleven, Tim was being mugged, and it was not a pleasant experience. 

Giving his camera to the mugger wasn’t an option. It was full of pictures of Batman and R– of Batman. Explaining to the mugger why he couldn’t give his camera away wasn’t an option, for obvious reasons. Not giving his camera away wasn’t much of an option either. Tim was all out of options. 

So Tim did the only thing he could. Under the pretense of giving the mugger his camera, he took a picture. Of the mugger’s face. About a whole five centimetres from his eyes. With the flash on. 

Then he ran, dialing the police with one hand, and screaming like a banshee. 

\----------

But for now, Jim wasn’t grateful. Jim was exhausted, Jim was at work, and it was not a pleasant experience.

Giving up his current case, going home, wasn’t an option. The precinct was in a buzz, trying to solve the case behind the disappearance of Batman and R– Of Batman. Just Batman, now. Explaining to the other officers why searching for Robin was useless wasn’t an option, for obvious reasons. Not doing his very best to solve Batman’s disappearance wasn’t much of an option either.

Jim was all out of options.

So Jim did the only thing he could.

Under the pretense of going for a coffee run, he drove to some of Gotham’s worst neighborhoods. In his police cruiser. At four in the morning, with the lights on.

Then he ran, answering his phone with one hand, hearing the screams and the telltale sounds of a fight.   
  


\----------

It started in a damp and dark alley, with Jason Todd running away, having just tried to steal from the Bat himself, the swing of a crowbar and meeting his new family for the first time. 

“Le’go of me, you big boob.” 

And Batman had laughed, because, honestly, what did that even mean?

\----------

It started in a damp and dark alley, with Tim Drake running away, having just almost been stolen from, the swing of a crowbar, and meeting his new family for the first time. 

“You’re. You’re alive. We’ve got to phone the commissioner. We’ve got to tell Batman.” 

And Jason’s lips had twitched, because, honestly. 

What did that even mean? 


	2. Oh my god, how are you so damn cute?! (Jason Todd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gem asked: Number 20 with Jay? Ily Syn 💙💙💙

“Oh shit.” The Red Hood says, after he’s landed on the rooftop and taken a good look at what the situation is. Taken a good look at what prompted Robin to press his panic button.

Damian Wayne, currently around a year old - by his best guesstimation - and sitting up in a puddle of Robin uniform, hisses in response. He tries to waddle up, to pick his grapple up, only to fall back on his butt, a little closer to the edge of the roof than he’d been a minute before.

Now that he’s ascertained that the danger’s passed, now that he knows what the magic does, he regrets having pushed that button.

“Oh, no. Don’t even think about it.” The Red Hood says.

‘I am more than capable of making my way home unassisted.’ Damian insists. Or means to insist, anyway. It comes out garbled, much to his embarrassment.

His vocal cords refuse to cooperate, only producing an intolerable babble.

“Gah, buh bah.” Is what comes out.

Todd kneels down. His tone becomes one Damian’s rarely heard, reserved only for the nights they battle Scarecrow, for the nights they’re all far too hurt to argue. “Hey, little guy. It’s alright.” He soothes. “It’s just me.” He’s walking closer cautiously as though Damian is nothing but a terrified, helpless civilian.

'I know that, Todd, you buffoon.’ Damian wants to retort.

“Hah. Bo.” His traitor of a body produces.

Todd tries to close the last few meters between them, still crooning nonsense.

“Shhhhh, Babybat. It’s going to be just fine.”

Damian shots the grapple towards the Red Hood’s foot, forcing him to dodge with a surprised sound.

“Gah.” He says, as sunnily as he can manage. As innocent as he can act. It’s a passable imitation of a sugar-high Grayson. His acting skills must be impeccable, for Todd only pries the grapple away from his hands and does not call him a 'little hellion’ or any variation thereof.

“Careful, that’s not a toy, Dami.” Todd puts the grapple away, and hoist Damian in his arms with a care he wasn’t sure the giant possessed.

The sheer indignity of it all threatens to make Damian blush. Still he keeps his composure.

'Speak to me like this again and face life as an eunuch.’ He warns

“Buuuh.”

“Oh my god, how are you so damn cute?!” Is the only thing his oaf of a brother manages to says in response.

Damian tries to keep his promise. He kicks his legs but is immediately thwarted by the protective layers his brother wears on patrol.


	3. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. (Stephanie Brown)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liv (http://www.livia-art.tumblr.com) asked: Syn syn may I get 8 with Steph please 💕
> 
> (let's play spot the animated movie reference)

The gala they were all stuck at was long, boring, and particularly painful.

It was supposedly for a good cause, though, as much of a good cause as bringing a dead boy back to life could be, so she couldn’t escape early.

Oh, and it was about her adoption in the mess that was Bruce Wayne’s life. That too.

“Hello, fellow humans.” Steph greeted, very solemnly as she joined Jason and Bruce in hiding behind one of the snack tables. “I may or may not have effed up and told a reporter you were Bruce’s illegitimate child with Wonder Woman. Oh and almost punched another in the nose.”

Jason tried to cough out the champagne he’d just inhaled through his nose. She snatched his glass and downed it in one go. 

“Do I want to know?” Bruce asked a particularly bland spot on the ceiling, as Jason continued trying to get his respiratory tract under control.

Steph leaned forward, eyes gleaming, face blank. She lowered her voice, making it as rough as she could in a close imitation of Batman’s own.

“Do you?”

Bruce left. Left the shelter of the snack table, left them behind to deal with the mess Steph had made.

Or maybe worsen it, once he heard what the reporter had been saying about his kids. She’d been doing him a favor, really.

Steph watched him go, torn between a smidge of guilt, and a whole lot of satisfaction.

“I feel like a penguin.” She complained to Jason, handing him his empty glass back. He scowled down at it. “And not even a decently impressive one like The Penguin. No, I feel like a boring, awkward, penguin. A body like mine should never be stuffed in a suit like this. It’s a tragedy, Jason.”

“The real tragedy here is you thinking the Penguin is impressive.”

“True.” She paused, peering from their hiding spot to look the way Bruce had gone. “Uh. You might want to take a look at this.”

“Steph.” Jason said, in a grave tone. “Do not do this to me. I escaped to the snack table after two hours of mingling with the worst of Gotham’s high society. I am safe at the snack table. I am not leaving the snack table for anything short of Joker deciding to re-enact my grand, fiery, end. And even then, I’d-”

She grabbed him by the chin and turned it in the right direction.

“Aw, sheep.” Jason said, and slid out of their hiding spot to walk towards where Bruce looked about to blow all of their secret identities by punching the same jerk Steph had, but with all the power of Batman, this time.

She’d have been smart, would have kept it sloppy.

Tim, standing next to Bruce, looked torn between trying to mediate, and just watching the shitshow unfold.

Steph followed.

“Mr. Wayne! Is there any truth to the rumors that you tried to make young Ja-” The jerk trailed off as he caught sight of Jason, just behind Bruce’s shoulders. He suddenly looked like the cat that caught the canary.

“Hi. My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Wayne.” Deadpanned Jason, not giving him more time to react. “And I have long ebony black hair. That’s how I got my name in case you couldn’t tell.”

Tim chocked on his mouthful of appetizer. Served him right, Steph thought. The press had always been kind with him. This was Jason’s revenge for his own choking earlier, she was sure.

Alfred, having appeared near to them thanks to some Butler magic he had – or really, his ability to detect ongoing trouble – patted him lightly on the back until he could breathe normally again, offering him a glass of water once he was done coughing.

“And hi.” Steph greeted with a bright smile. “I’m his identical twin. Separated at birth.”

“You-”

“That’s right.” Jason added. “And we’re both named Jason. It was to make sure they didn’t get confused. Brucie can be a bit of an airhead sometimes, you know?”

Ooh, nice one. But Steph could do better.

“Ah. Er. Mr Wayne, how did you come to find your family again?”

“Well, you see, just after me and Jason were born, Bruce and my mother got divorced. They each took one kid. Obviously he got the second pick.”

This got her a side-eye. A disdainful one at that.

“Jason Todd was adopted when he was eleven years old.”

She smiled her brightest, sunniest smile.

“Babies. They grow so fast.”

“Mr Wayne, where were you, all these years?”

“About twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death.”

“Jason. Enough.”

But Bruce’s lips were twitching as he lead the reporter away.

“I do wish you’d learn to take these galas seriously, Master Jason.”

“When I’m dead, Alfie. Plus three days just to make sure I’m dead.”

“Master. Jason.” And that was Alfred’s scary voice. And his scary glance, too, before he surreptitiously went to follow Bruce and the reporter under the guise of serving drinks.

“Smile and nod, boys.” Jason muttered, low, contrite. “Smile and nod.”

“It’s smile and wave, you uncultured swine.”

“Oh, fuck you. At least I’m not quoting Shrek.”

“Yet.” Steph said in an ominous tone.

“Yet.” Jason conceded. 


	4. I have an affinity for not dying (Jason Todd and Tim Drake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardbluefish asked: Hmm 12 with Jay and Tim?

_So._

The thing is. 

Jason’s seen better days. 

Oh, he’s seen worse ones, too, but that’s not the _point_. 

The point is- 

It’s- 

Jason can’t remember what the point is. 

But he’s seen better days. Definitely. He thinks. He hopes. 

Some days _had_ to be better than being slumped in a chair with his stomach on fire, no head, and no idea where he is, what happened, or how he got there. 

‘Fucking hell’, he wants to complain. It comes out of his mouth more as a pitiful little “F’ckk” than anything articulate, but what matters is that his overall displeasure at the situation he’s in is being expressed. Expressing his feelings is healthy. Or so he’s been told.

Oh, wait. That’s what the point was. Is. 

Whatever. 

The point is, Jason’s seen better days and people should know that. 

Feel that. 

Regret that. 

Maybe do something about it. That would be helpful, for sure. A rescue would be nice, right about now.

…. 

Now. 

…. 

Now?

…. 

“Hnnnn” He moans again, louder. Talking makes the fire in his stomach and in his head way, way, worse. Something cold trickles down his cheeks. Which means that, _yay!_ , he was wrong, he has – in fact – a head. That’s good news. Having a head is better than the alternative, he knows that. 

The bad news is that said head is killing him, but doesn’t really feel like it’s there. Or like he can control it. It’s crying all on its own, for example. 

Very impolite, that. 

His head. His head is the key. Head means eyes, eyes mean more info. Opening them seems like a good idea, if a little difficult. 

He tries. 

One out of two, not bad. Not bad at all, Todd. One is swelled shut. The other takes in more details about his situation. Good job, other eye.

Yes, this has to be something of a low point in his life, he decides with a chuckle. Whimper? Something along those lines. 

Turns out laughing at his own jokes is a very bad idea. He’s aware society looks down on that, usually, but in this case it’s a bad idea because it tells his captors that he’s awake. More good news, though, is it also tells Tim he’s awake.

“Hood.” Red Robin says, urgently, insistently, like there is something important that Jason should grasp in that sentence. Jason doesn’t know what he should grasp and would like everyone to cut him some slack. 

“That’sh me.” He slurs. “I’m Hood.” 

“Hood, listen to me.” 

“I’m lishening.” 

“ _Hood_ , you’ve been dosed wit-” 

“That’ll be quite enough of that.” A cold voice cuts Tim off. And that’s a bit not good. Jason wanted to know. Tim usually had all the info needed, _and_ a plan. Tim talking was reassuring. Jason misses when Tim was still talking.

“I mish ya, Red.”

Adrenaline washes over him like someone’s thrown a bucket of cold water over him.

He hadn’t meant to say that. 

That wakes him up a little. The two-bit villain smirks at him. 

“Back with us, are we? Good. As Red Robin here was just about to say, you’ve been dosed with truth serum.” 

“Truth sherum doesn’t exist.” Jason argues, blinking. “It’sh an overused plot device. Sodium penthotal ish a myth.” 

He hadn’t meant to say that either.

Well, maybe truth serum does exist. Crappity-crap.

“I see you’re starting to realize the gravity of the situation. Now. What is your name?”

Okay, this one’s easy. 

“Red Hood.” 

“Don’t try to get smart with me, kid. What was the name your parents gave you?” 

“Robin.” 

**_He hadn’t meant to say that_.**

“What’s Batman’s real identity?”

He has a head. He should use it. His head is, however, not working very well. Might be a concussion, might be the serum, might be the pain. Probably a mix of all three. No, but actually, this is good. This is just word games. Jason’s got this. Jason’s effing amazing at this.

“Batman is a real identity of his own.” 

“What is his name?”

“Batman.” 

“What else is he called?” 

For someone that’s invented truth serum, this villain isn’t very smart, is he? 

“The Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader. The Bat. Occasionally, and I always enjoy this one,‘Oh, hell, it’s that Bastard again.’” 

“What’s the name of the person behind the mask?” 

“The person behind the mask doesn’t have _a_ name.” 

They had many. 

“You’re kidding me.” 

“I’m really not.” 

Dick, for example, had multiple names. More than that, it depended on which Batman they were talking about. So no, he wasn’t lying. 

Tied in the chair as he was, Tim had started snickering. 

“Is Batm- Is Batman human?” 

“As far as I know. The point is debatable.” 

Superman had donned the cowl at some point of Dick’s Robin career, hadn’t he? 

“But he doesn’t have _a_ name?” 

“No.” 

Jason loved technicalities. The dude’s paling. 

“Is he being forced to do this?!” 

“He doesn’t think he has much of a choice.” 

The villain’s losing patience, especially in the face of Tim’s snickering. He turns his attention to his little brother and the questions start back up. 

“Where does Batman lives?” 

“In a Cave.” Tim answers calmly. 

“What’s the address of this cave?” 

“Caves don’t have addresses, dumbass.” 

“Where is this Cave situated?” 

“Underground.” 

“Where in Gotham is that fucking cave situated?!” 

“Nowhere in Gotham. And there’s no effing allowed in the Cave. It’s a public space, Robin doesn’t need to see that.” 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

“It’s been said before. I have an affinity for not dying.” 

“Man I wish that were me.” Jason interjects, snickering. Tim sends him an exasperated look, and of course, that’s the moment Bruce chooses to barge in dramatically and rescue them.


End file.
